University of Virginia Library

24. CHAPTER XXIV.

We now found ourselves in the wide and desolate
Antarctic Ocean, in a latitude exceeding eighty-four degrees,
in a frail canoe, and with no provision but the
three turtles. The long Polar winter, too, could not be
considered as far distant, and it became necessary that
we should deliberate well upon the course to be pursued.
There were six or seven islands in sight belonging to
the same group, and distant from each other about five
or six leagues; but upon neither of these had we any
intention to venture. In coming from the northward in
the Jane Guy we had been gradually leaving behind us
the severest regions of ice—this, however little it may
be in accordance with the generally-received notions respecting
the Antarctic, was a fact experience would not
permit us to deny. To attempt, therefore, getting back,
would be folly—especially at so late a period of the season.
Only one course seemed to be left open for hope.
We resolved to steer boldly to the southward, where
there was at least a probability of discovering other
lands, and more than a probability of finding a still
milder climate.

So far we had found the Antarctic, like the Arctic
Ocean, peculiarly free from violent storms or immoderately
rough water; but our canoe was, at best, of frail
structure, although large, and we set busily to work with
a view of rendering her as safe as the limited means in
our possession would admit. The body of the boat was
of no better material than bark—the bark of a tree unknown.
The ribs were of a tough osier, well adapted
to the purpose for which it was used. We had fifty feet
room from stem to stern, from four to six in breadth,
and in depth throughout four feet and a half—the boats
thus differing vastly in shape from those of any other inhabitants
of the Southern Ocean with whom civilized nations

are acquainted. We never did believe them the
workmanship of the ignorant islanders who owned them;
and some days after this period discovered, by questioning
our captive, that they were in fact made by the natives
of a group to the southwest of the country where
we found them, having fallen accidentally into the hands
of our barbarians. What we could do for the security
of our boat was very little indeed. Several wide rents
were discovered near both ends, and these we contrived
to patch up with pieces of woollen jacket. With the
help of the superfluous paddles, of which there were a
great many, we erected a kind of framework about the
bow, so as to break the force of any seas which might
threaten to fill us in that quarter. We also set up two
paddle-blades for masts, placing them opposite each
other, one by each gunwale, thus saving the necessity
of a yard. To these masts we attached a sail made of
our shirts—doing this with some difficulty, as here we
could get no assistance from our prisoner whatever, although
he had been willing enough to labour in all the
other operations. The sight of the linen seemed to affect
him in a very singular manner. He could not be prevailed
upon to touch it or go near it, shuddering when we attempted
to force him, and shrieking out Tekeli-li!

Having completed our arrangements in regard to the
security of the canoe, we now set sail to the south southeast
for the present, with the view of weathering the
most southerly of the group in sight. This being done,
we turned the bow full to the southward. The weather
could by no means be considered disagreeable. We had
a prevailing and very gentle wind from the northward, a
smooth sea, and continual daylight. No ice whatever
was to be seen; nor did I ever see one particle of this
after leaving the parallel of Bennett's Islet. Indeed, the
temperature of the water was here far too warm for its
existence in any quantity. Having killed the largest of
our tortoises, and obtained from him not only food, but
a copious supply of water, we continued on our course,
without any incident of moment, for perhaps seven or
eight days, during which period we must have proceeded

a vast distance to the southward, as the wind blew constantly
with us, and a very strong current set continually
in the direction we were pursuing.

March 1.[1] Many unusual phenomena now indicated
that we were entering upon a region of novelty and
wonder. A high range of light gray vapour appeared
constantly in the southern horizon, flaring up occasionally
in lofty streaks, now darting from east to west, now from
west to east, and again presenting a level and uniform
summit—in short, having all the wild variations of the
Aurora Borealis. The average height of this vapour, as
apparent from our station, was about twenty-five degrees.
The temperature of the sea seemed to be increasing
momentarily, and there was a very perceptible
alteration in its colour.

March 2. To-day, by repeated questioning of our captive,
we came to the knowledge of many particulars in
regard to the island of the massacre, its inhabitants, and
customs—but with these how can I now detain the
reader? I may say, however, that we learned there
were eight islands in the group—that they were governed
by a common king, named Tsalemon or Psalemoun,
who resided in one of the smallest of the islands—that
the black skins forming the dress of the warriors came
from an animal of huge size to be found only in a valley
near the court of the king—that the inhabitants of the
group fabricated no other boats than the flat-bottomed
rafts; the four canoes being all of the kind in their possession,
and these having been obtained, by mere accident,
from some large island to the southwest—that his
own name was Nu-Nu—that he had no knowledge of
Bennett's Islet—and that the appellation of the island
we had left was Tsalal. The commencement of the
words Tsalemon and Tsalal was given with a prolonged
hissing sound, which we found it impossible to imitate,
even after repeated endeavours, and which was precisely

the same with the note of the black bittern we had eaten
upon the summit of the hill.

March 3. The heat of the water was now truly remarkable,
and its colour was undergoing a rapid change,
being no longer transparent, but of a milky consistency
and hue. In our immediate vicinity it was usually
smooth, never so rough as to endanger the canoe—but
we were frequently surprised at perceiving, to our right
and left, at different distances, sudden and extensive agitations
of the surface—these, we at length noticed, were
always preceded by wild flickerings in the region of vapour
to the southward.

March 4. To-day, with the view of widening our sail,
the breeze from the northward dying away perceptibly, I
took from my coat-pocket a white handkerchief. Nu-Nu
was seated at my elbow, and the linen accidentally flaring
in his face, he became violently affected with convulsions.
These were succeeded by drowsiness and
stupor, and low murmurings of Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!

March 5. The wind had entirely ceased, but it was
evident that we were still hurrying on to the southward,
under the influence of a powerful current. And now,
indeed, it would seem reasonable that we should experience
some alarm at the turn events were taking—but we
felt none. The countenance of Peters indicated nothing
of this nature, although it wore at times an expression I
could not fathom. The Polar winter appeared to be
coming on—but coming without its terrors. I felt a
numbness of body and mind—a dreaminess of sensation
—but this was all.

March 6. The gray vapour had now arisen many more
degrees above the horizon, and was gradually losing its
grayness of tint. The heat of the water was extreme,
even unpleasant to the touch, and its milky hue was more
evident than ever. To-day a violent agitation of the
water occurred very close to the canoe. It was attended,
as usual, with a wild flaring up of the vapour at its summit,
and a momentary division at its base. A fine white
powder, resembling ashes—but certainly not such—fell
over the canoe and over a large surface of the water, as

the flickering died away among the vapour and the commotion
subsided in the sea. Nu-Nu now threw himself
on his face in the bottom of the boat, and no persuasions
could induce him to arise.

March 7. This day we questioned Nu-Nu concerning
the motives of his countrymen in destroying our companions;
but he appeared to be too utterly overcome by
terror to afford us any rational reply. He still obstinately
lay in the bottom of the boat; and, upon our reiterating
the questions as to the motive, made use only of
idiotic gesticulations, such as raising with his forefinger
the upper lip, and displaying the teeth which lay beneath
it. These were black. We had never before seen the
teeth of an inhabitant of Tsalal.

March 8. To-day there floated by us one of the white
animals whose appearance upon the beach at Tsalal had
occasioned so wild a commotion among the savages. I
would have picked it up, but there came over me a sudden
listlessness, and I forbore. The heat of the water
still increased, and the hand could no longer be endured
within it. Peters spoke little, and I knew not what to
think of his apathy. Nu-Nu breathed, and no more.

March 9. The white ashy material fell now continually
around us, and in vast quantities. The range of vapour
to the southward had arisen prodigiously in the horizon,
and began to assume more distinctness of form. I can
liken it to nothing but a limitless cataract, rolling silently
into the sea from some immense and far-distant rampart
in the heaven. The gigantic curtain ranged along the
whole extent of the southern horizon. It emitted no
sound.

March 21. A sullen darkness now hovered above us—
but from out the milky depths of the ocean a luminous
glare arose, and stole up along the bulwarks of the boat.
We were nearly overwhelmed by the white ashy shower
which settled upon us and upon the canoe, but melted
into the water as it fell. The summit of the cataract
was utterly lost in the dimness and the distance. Yet
we were evidently approaching it with a hideous velocity.
At intervals there were visible in it wide, yawning, but

momentary rents, and from out these rents, within which
was a chaos of flitting and indistinct images, there came
rushing and mighty, but soundless winds, tearing up the
enkindled ocean in their course.

March 22. The darkness had materially increased, relieved
only by the glare of the water thrown back from
the white curtain before us. Many gigantic and pallidly
white birds flew continuously now from beyond the veil, and
their scream was the eternal Tekeli-li! as they retreated
from our vision. Hereupon Nu-Nu stirred in the bottom
of the boat; but, upon touching him, we found his spirit
departed. And now we rushed into the embraces of the
cataract, where a chasm threw itself open to receive us.
But there arose in our pathway a shrouded human figure,
very far larger in its proportions than any dweller among
men. And the hue of the skin of the figure was of the
perfect whiteness of the snow.